


Untitled (or How Jason Todd Found His Prostate)

by figaro



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Medical Kink, Mentor/Sidekick, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figaro/pseuds/figaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason thought about what Bruce had said, how stimulating the prostate would be enough to produce an emission, how one could even climax from it, and Jason imagined that, imagined coming without even jerking off, coming just from a finger up his ass, and he moaned again, zeroing in on his mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (or How Jason Todd Found His Prostate)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cornflakepizza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakepizza/gifts).



> While Jason's age isn't stated, he's Robin, so... heed the warning.  
> Also, I haven't written in a long, long while, so I'm a bit rusty. Feedback is welcome. :)

The clinical way Bruce talked about the body while holding one of his countless lectures usually drained any eventual embarrassment from it. At most Jason’s ears had heated up a little the afternoon Bruce talked about the importance of wearing a sturdy athletic cup when you’re out in the field. (s _ome_ criminals, Bruce refrained from saying who, but Jason thought it smelled of cat, were apparently quite fond of aiming for the crotch) And he’d gotten a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach when Bruce handed him a sleek looking jockstrap and a cup, before sending him off to try it on and to let Bruce know if any adjustments were needed. It had fit as if it was made for Jason’s junk, and considering Bruce was the Batman, well… Jason didn’t really want to go there, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility Bruce had _all_ of Jason’s measurements.  
  
The afternoon when Bruce decided it was time to teach Jason about prostate health, though… Jason was _mortified_. In the most matter-of-fact way Bruce talked about how masturbation was actually good for you, maybe even necessary, both because Jason was young (i.e. a walking, talking hormone soup) and it would help him focus, and because it simply was healthy to drain his testicles from time to time. That was the actual phrasing he used. Drain Jason’s testicles. That alone had Jason uncomfortably squirming in his seat. When Bruce went on from there to the topic of prostate massage, and how the draining was actually possible without orgasm, if you stimulated the gland via the rectum, Jason felt his face heat up to the point he was _sure_ Bruce must notice the blushing.  
  
After a thorough description of how this was done (along with information on how the act might be pleasurable, and despite what Bruce had said might very well lead to climax, depending on how sensitive one was) Bruce asked Jason if he had any questions, and Jason, well, Jason didn’t dare open his mouth, in case some embarrassing noise fell out instead of actual words. He simply shook his head, which was reeling with images he’d never even touched on before.  
  
Bruce finished his lecture by telling Jason he was free to skip it, he was young after all, and prostate health was more of a concern when you started reaching Bruce’s age, but that it would probably be a good idea if Jason gave finding his own prostate a try. Disposable gloves were over there, and in the drawer to the left there was a bottle of medical grade lubricant. Jason was free to take the items to his room for privacy.  
  
By that time Jason felt as if his cheeks were on fire, but he managed a nod, and slunk away to the training equipment on the other side of the Cave the second Bruce dismissed him; to breathe and to think.

**oOo**

A day or two later Jason figured it wouldn’t hurt to do what Bruce had told him. Bruce was nearly always right, and although it hadn’t been a direct order, Jason knew it would please him if he followed directions.  
  
Bruce was away on Wayne business related things, and Alfred was apparently up in the attic, pointlessly dusting off things no one would ever see again anyways, and doing whatever else household magic he always did. So basically Jason had the mansion to himself. Scolding himself on his way down to the Cave, annoyed with the way his pulse had shot up, how his stomach kept doing flip-flops, telling himself it was _no big deal_ , Jason half jogged over to the medical bay, and quickly snatched up a pair of gloves and the bottle, shoving them inside his hoodie and keeping them pressed against his chest. For a moment he felt like he was ten and shoplifting again. It didn’t really make him any less nervous.  
  
He took the stairs two at a time back up to the mansion and probably beat some record crossing the distance between the library and his room, dashing down the hall as if his damn ass was on fire.  
  
And for once, he locked his door behind him.  
  
Jason fished out and put the slightly terrifying items (stupid, _stupid_ , nothing to be afraid of. He’d used gloves cleaning up wounds on both himself and Bruce before, and he even kept a tiny bottle of what might very well be the same lubricant in his goddamn utility belt. It had its uses in the field, easing the passage _—God—_ when you needed to get past creaky windows and doors. He’d _never_ look at that bottle the same way after this though, that was for sure) down on his bed, before stripping off sneakers and socks, jeans and hoodie, letting it all settle in a pile on the floor.  
  
Standing in t-shirt and briefs only, Jason shuddered. It wasn’t particularly cold in his room but that didn’t keep goose bumps from forming on his legs and arms. Rubbing his arms while looking down at himself Jason realized he had to remove his underwear too. He didn’t really want to. Creating a mess in them sounded even less tempting, though, plus, damnit, Jason was no chicken. He’d never have become Robin if he was. And what was this? It wasn’t as if he was facing a big baddie, it wasn’t as if he was walking to his death. All he had to do was stick a finger up his butt and dig around a little. Piece of cake. Piece of seriously embarrassing cake.  
  
Jason could do this.  
  
He tugged his briefs down almost violently, stepping out of them and kicking them over to land on top of the rest of his clothes and then made for the bed, hesitating with one knee resting on the mattress, before turning back around and heading to the bathroom where he grabbed a big towel, which he tossed on the bed and smoothed out before flopping down on it.  
  
After yet another short struggle with himself, Jason grabbed a glove, put it on, covered two fingers in lube, and then froze.  
  
How was he supposed to sit? Lie? Should he get on his knees? For some reason Bruce hadn’t covered this. He’d just told Jason to ‘get comfortable’. What the heck did that mean? Jason let out an annoyed sigh before simply laying back, grabbing a couple of pillows with his non-sticky hand and shoving behind his head so he’d be able to at least try and see what he was doing. Of course his junk was in the way (should he do this in front of a mirror?), but Jason figured he simply had to feel his way around. He planted his feet on the mattress, legs spread wide (a mirror would definitely have been a bad idea. _Christ,_ the way he must look right now) and reached down with his clean hand, gently tugging his balls to the side, before pretty much shoving down his other hand and pressing two slick fingertips against his asshole, before he lost his courage.

The feeling made him gasp out loud. He’d never figured… He… Of course he’d touched himself down there before, hell, he showered daily and made sure he cleaned _everywhere_ , but not like this. Not with purpose, not with _intent_ , and definitely not with his fingers coated in something so slippery.

The very tips of his fingers skated over wrinkled skin, sending a jolt up his spine, and Jason found he simply had to do it again. And again. He traced gentle circles and reveled in the warmth flooding his body. It came as no surprise at all when his dick twitched against his wrist, and slowly started filling out, not growing completely hard but definitely chubbing up, enough for it to rise a little from his hip, where it had rested. The urge to let go of his sac and grab it, work it over until it throbbed, grew steadily in Jason, but he was on a mission, and sadly his dick wasn’t a priority right now. Maybe after. Maybe if pushing inside felt as good as just rubbing.

Suddenly Jason felt impatient. He needed to know. He pressed the pad of a finger against his asshole, felt the springy give, felt how he’d be let inside if he only pushed, and tilted his finger, let the tip slip in a fraction of an inch, and even though he was barely even inside, Jason felt elated in a way he’d rarely experienced before. He couldn’t even put words to it. Just this, the power of being able to be inside yourself, it… It did things to him. It made him feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time, and it gave him the courage needed to push.  
  
And push.

And push. until his finger was buried in his ass, up until the last knuckle. Jason wagged it gently, carefully, and surprised himself when he let out a moan. Bruce had talked about how the anus was positively packed with nerve endings, and that knowledge had sunken in properly when Jason had just stroked on the outside, but Bruce hadn’t mentioned how it would feel _inside_. Jason knew that technically he wasn’t very sensitive where his finger now was buried, but the feeling of something _there_ , not to mention the feeling of his smooth inner walls touching his finger, even through the latex, was overwhelming. He was so hot inside. So slick. So snug. And Jason didn’t really want to think about Bruce right now, but he still sent a silent thanks to him for tipping Jason off and encouraging him to explore his body. Jason was pretty sure he’d never jerk off again without adding a finger, like this.

His dick bobbed against his stomach now, so hard he could feel his pulse throbbing in it, and the area between his navel and his pubes was slowly turning into a sticky mess. Jason knew he leaked quite a bit when he was horny, but never like this, never a near steady little trail of precome connecting the head to his stomach, a shivering string threatening to break with every bob of his dick.

Jason thought about what Bruce had said, how stimulating the prostate would be enough to produce an emission, how one could even climax from it, and Jason imagined that, imagined coming without even jerking off, coming just from a finger up his ass, and he moaned again, zeroing in on his mission, focusing on finding the spot he was looking for.  
  
Something which, it turned out, was easier said than done. Jason gently poked and prodded, focusing on pressing upward, sliding his fingertip against his inner wall slowly back and forth, trying to find the lump Bruce had talked about (and showed diagrams of, of course), but he just couldn’t pin down the damn thing. His dick flagged a little as unease started building in his gut. Jason felt ridiculous. It still felt good, but Jason imagined he must look like a moron digging around in his ass, legs spread wide, and a sense of failure started making itself known as well.

Jason reminded himself once again that this had all been completely voluntary, but he still felt somehow as if he’d let Bruce down. It was hardly rocket science and still…

Jason sighed, the low thrum of arousal still present not enough to stop him from pulling his finger out and tugging the glove off, tossing it to the side.

He ignored his bobbing cock, still a bit fluffed up, as he rolled off his bed and headed for the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the glove.  
  
After having dressed and put the bottle of lube back where he found it, Jason felt a strong urge to move, to get away from everything Bruce for a while, and went for a jog around the grounds.

  
It turned out more of a sprint, the frustration egging Jason on, making him work himself harder, knowing he’d stop _thinking_ if he exhausted himself enough. Bruce would be angry with him, patrol that night would suck, as Jason would be sure to ache and yawn all the way through it, but he tried to run away from those thoughts too.

**oOo**

Patrol did suck.

At least Bruce wasn’t very angry. And Jason slept well when they finally returned home at the break of dawn.

**oOo**

The following afternoon Jason woke up refreshed, and feeling pretty silly for having reacted the way he did. Bruce wouldn’t see it as a failure, he’d see it as an opportunity for Jason to try harder. Or possibly he’d just tell Jason to forget about it for now, and give him a clap on the shoulder for at least giving it a shot.

In any case Jason felt the need to report to Bruce. That was something too well drilled into him to even think of ignoring.

He caught Bruce in the Cave after breakfast, and nearly lost his courage. Bruce was over by the gym equipment, bare-chested and sweaty after apparently having pushed himself pretty hard. He still was, snarling on his back and lifting Jason-didn’t-dare-imagine-how-many-pounds-of weights with his legs; thighs and calves, with the hair plastered down by sweat, tensing and relaxing, muscles standing out in stark relief and sinking back, over and over.

Bruce looked… angry, almost. But it could just be his super-focused face. Nothing to be wary of. And if Jason didn’t leave a report now, he had a feeling he never would. Conditioning or no conditioning.

"Uhm, Bruce?"

A pause in the monotonous clanking of the weights, the Cave going quiet for a moment, before picking up again.

"Yes, Jason?" Bruce sounded slightly winded. He really had worked himself _hard_. Jason wondered why.

"Could we… talk? When you’re done, I mean. I can wait at the computer and… rehearse the Gotham penal code, or something."

Another pause.

"You know the penal code inside and out and could probably recite it in your sleep if needed."

"Or just sort some files. I’ll just, you know, go wait for you."

Bruce let out a quiet grunt as he kept the tension in his legs while slowly, slowly lowering them, before rolling to the side and getting on his feet, gracefully as a big cat. At least until he took a step forward and actually wobbled a little. “Is something wrong, Jason?”

"No! I mean, no… It’s not an emergency or anything, it’s just, uh… Personal." Jason made a face. "And kinda embarrassing."

"I see." Bruce had grabbed a towel and was rubbing it against the back of his neck, the muscles in his chest and arm flexing.

Jason swallowed.

"Well, as embarrassing as it might seem, you know it’s probably better to talk about it." Bruce dragged the towel over his face, revealing a slight smile behind it. "And if it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t laugh.

Bruce making jokes, Hallelujah. He must be all but drowning in endorphins by now. Too bad Jason wasn’t in the mood to fully appreciate it.

"Uh, alright. Well, I guess that is good. If you laughed I’d probably be scarred forever." Jason managed a crooked smile back, or at least he hoped it looked like a smile, and not just a grimace. From the answering look on Bruce’s face, Jason suspected he’d failed quite spectacularly. The smile was wiped away and left were only lines of worry.

"Tell me what’s wrong, Jason."

"Well, you see…" Jason rubbed a hand through his hair, swallowed hard. He took a quick look around him and instead of continuing, he headed for the nearest bench. He waited until Bruce followed his lead and had sat down too, facing him, before continuing. "You talked to me about… prostate health." Jason felt a prickle in his cheeks as blood started rising in them. Damn, damn, damn.

"And you decided to try the prostate massage I recommended," Bruce finished.  
  
You hardly had to be a master detective to reach that conclusion, but it still eased something inside Jason when Bruce picked up on it right away. He didn’t have to say it himself. He nodded.

"Yeah, I did as you said with the gloves and the… bottle. In my room. On a towel," he added hastily, "I didn’t mess up the bed or anything."

"Good. That was thoughtful of you."

The encouraging smile, just a light tilt of the corner of Bruce’s mouth, made Jason want to crack open and spill everything. It didn’t have to be embarrassing. This was _Bruce._

He managed a real smile this time.

"Yeah, so… Anyways. I did it like you said, careful, with one finger and I, uh…"

"You…?" Bruce prompted gently.

Jason’s sigh nearly emptied his lungs. It was like it was sucked out of him. He might not have to be embarrassed, but he still felt like a failure.

"I couldn’t find it. The prostate. I kept digging around and, yeah. So I gave up."

Bruce hummed, and if Jason didn’t know any better he’d say it was an entertained hum. “It’s not like you to quit, but in this case I can hardly blame you. It was a completely novel situation, and a rather… intimate one at that.”

"And not mandatory." Jason dared to meet Bruce’s eyes, hunting forgiveness even though he knew by now he didn’t need it.

"No, not mandatory." Bruce nodded, and Jason sighed again, easier this time, before straightening his back a little. Embarrassing or not, humiliating or not, intimate or not, he’d given Bruce his report. He’d been good.

"I’m glad you felt you could come to me with this, Jason," Bruce said, as if reading Jason’s mind.

"Ah, yeah. Me too. And thank you for not laughing."

"You’re welcome."

"Heh."

"So, what now?"

Jason blinked. He’d been sure the discussion would end there, case closed, all finished, the end. No more talk of his butt with Bruce. The look that must be on his face seemed to prompt Bruce to continue.

"Are you going to try again?"

"I—" Frick, frick, _fuck_. Jason felt himself starting to blush again.

"Would you like me to help you?"

Fuck blushing, Jason was heading for a stroke. “Uh…”

"You know I would, if you wanted. It would probably be easier that way, too. The angle when doing it yourself can make it quite difficult to pinpoint the prostate."

His head was reeling, and it was like he’d lost contact with his body, like he was only a brain resting on a lump of clay. Jason doubted he’d be able to move even if the alarm went off; even if the damn Joker would happen to stroll in right then.

"Embarrassment is unnecessary, Jason. This is, after all, mostly a standard medical procedure."

_Mostly?_

Jason opened his mouth and hoped to high heaven it would be at least marginally connected to his brain. “Except for the fact I might get off on it.” Pretty excellent connection! It even managed to bypass the brain-to-mouth filter completely. Jason would’ve patted himself on the head if he wasn’t already aiming for sinking through the Cave floor and disappearing for good.

Bruce seemed to take it in stride. Or course. What didn’t he. “A side effect. It would be completely natural, and nothing to be ashamed of.”

Screw it, if Jason was going to open his mouth again, he might as well shove his foot in it while at it. “So, what you’re saying is, you wanna stick a finger up my butt, and it’s no biggie if that makes me spooge.”

"Language, Jason." It was said reflexively, there was no disapproval in Bruce’s voice, nor visible on his face when Jason dared meet his eyes again. There was _something_ there, though. Something that made Jason feel a little itchy on the inside; that quite forcefully anchored him in his body again and suddenly he could feel _everything_. His skin felt a size to small when he noticed Bruce eyes slip down, just for a second. Just long enough for Jason to notice, not even long enough for him to process it. Instead he mirrored Bruce. Although, unlike him, Jason didn’t manage to just sneak a glance, his eyes stuck when they reached Bruce’s lap, where his hands rested. Big hands. Strong hands. Thick but deft fingers. A couple of sliver-thin silvery scars snaking over the knuckles.

"Christ…" Jason muttered. It wasn’t the first time he’d admired Bruce hands. They were brilliant. Jason hoped he’d sport something similar one day, when he finally started growing properly. It was, however, the first time Jason admired Bruce hands while simultaneously touching on the idea of one of those big fingers being _inside_ him.

"I should probably scold you for taking the Lord’s name in vain, too."

Again with the jokes. Jason seriously entertained the idea that he was dreaming, or maybe sent off to a parallel universe without noticing. Bruce was somehow, in the middle of this, having _fun._ Not laughing _at_ Jason, but still obviously entertained.  
  
Jason wondered how he must look. Slack-jawed, staring at Bruce’s lap, _dazed_.

_The man wants to finger fuck me._

The thought was too crude, and it _must be_ incorrect, but it still lodged itself in the forefront of Jason’s mind.

Standard medical procedure, Bruce says, and then he teases, more lighthearted than Jason had seen him in a while. It made Jason’s head spin. And his gut churn. And his heart beat rabbit-fast in his chest. Before he even knew what he was doing, he nodded—something that made Bruce’s gaze _sharpen_.

"What are you saying yes to, Jason?" Bruce’s voice was firm, the way it was when he really needed to be clear about something, when he expected Jason to be crystal clear in return.

"Do it," Jason said, ignoring the panicked cacophony that had gone off in the back of his head.

**oOo**

"This will be easier if you either just bend over the examination table and spread your legs a little, or if you lie down on it on your side, your back to me. Pick what you feel most comfortable with."

"I think I’ll stand," Jason said, sounding faint, _feeling_ faint, still gripped by a sense of unreality, still suspecting, no matter how improbable, he’d ended up in a parallel universe. The unreal feeling propelled him, though, pushed any thought of consequences away. It somehow all felt inevitable. Bruce had _made_ Jason, had molded him into Robin, body and mind. Bruce had pushed and prodded, stretched Jason out like taffy, massaged every muscle in his body into goo; wasn’t it just right that he’d mold Jason inside as well? Wasn’t Jason, as Bruce’s creation, Bruce’s to do what he wanted with?  
  
As Jason stepped up to the table and slowly bent over it, resting his chin on his crossed arms, the sense of unreality faded, replaced by something that made things seem even _more_ than real. He was doing this. He was aware of the adrenaline surging through his body that not only came from anticipation of the unfamiliar, but also from fear. He was aware of his body, maybe more than he’d ever been, and he sank into that feeling as he heard the snap of a latex glove being pulled on, as he felt Bruce step up behind him, as he felt thumbs hook into the elastic of his sweats and briefs both, and tugging down, just enough to bare his ass. The click of a bottle being opened and the sticky, nasty noise of something gooey being squeezed out followed. Then nothing.  
  
Jason’s heart still raced, but he kept his breathing steady, gently rolled his forehead against his arm, parted his legs a couple of inches more and settled. He didn’t wait for Bruce’s question.  
  
“Ready.”

Bruce responded with a steady grip on Jason’s bared hip, warm and dry and gloveless. Before Jason had barely even registered it, the tip of a finger was pressed up against his asshole. Firmer than his own had been at the beginning; steady and sure, and the circling motion was quick and practical, albeit gentle, meant to make sure Jason was properly coated and nothing else.  
  
When Jason didn’t twitch or squirm, only exhaling through his nose, he got a murmured “Good, Jason.” in reply, and it made something glow in his chest. This was right. This was—

"Fuck!"

It had to be one finger, but it felt like three, at least. He couldn’t help but bark out the swear when he was breached. No pain was registering, but the _stretch_ of it, the quiet burn, shot Jason’s breathing to hell and all of a sudden he was gulping down air, exhaling in violent puffs, _panting_. What he’d felt when he did this to himself back in his room came back with crystal clarity; nerve endings lighting up, making pleasure course through his entire body; the throb of it inside in direct connection with his dick, making it twitch and drool. He hadn’t forgotten how good it had felt, but now, with Bruce’s finger half-buried inside him, he relived it. And of course it was even more intense when someone else was doing it. Of course.

Jason thought he could hear Bruce tell him to steady his breathing and relax, but with blood roaring in his ears he couldn’t be sure. He assumed that was what Bruce was saying at least. What else would he be saying in that low, calm voice? How hot Jason was? How tight? How good he felt around Bruce’s finger?

Jason groaned and shifted his stance, not having a clue if he wanted to move away or back up on Bruce’s hand. It felt fucking fantastic, it was too much, it was not enough.

It was definitely too much, in the best of ways. Lost in his head Jason hadn’t noticed Bruce finger bottoming out in him; nor had he registered the pressing and prodding. Not until Bruce hit the jackpot and Jason honest-to-God yelped.

_JesusfuckingChristonaGoddamncrackerHolyFUCK_

"There?" Bruce asked clearly enough to penetrate the chaos in Jason’s brain, and Jason, aiming for a nod and verbal affirmation, let out a string of little ‘ _unh, unh_ ' noises in return. The chuckle that produced nearly made Jason's knees buckle.

Cool, collected, Mostly Standard Medical Procedure Bruce standing behind Jason, gripping his hip as if owning him, crooking his finger in his goddamn ass, _definitely_ owning him, being amused by Jason’s pleasure. He was a bastard, a full-blown, dickheaded bastard, a—

"Oh, _God!_ ”

"I think we can safely say you’re one of the males who gain pleasure from the procedure."

_Smug fucking—_

"Ah!"

"As you may notice, different strokes and amount of pressure produce different results. And were I to keep this motion—" Bruce gently, consistently stroked his fingertip inside Jason, as if wiping away a smudge on a screen "—steady for some period of time, I am positive you’d ejaculate."

How else could Jason respond to that but with a _'Please!'_ and a contraction of the muscles in his groin so hard his dick smacked up against the underside of the examination table?

"We’re not doing this for recreation, though." Bruce sounded almost… regretful. There was that _something_ there again, lurking under what Jason had started to realize was a pretty damn thin veneer of distance. “I’ve shown you the basic principle; that you indeed are a happy owner of a prostate; and if you have trouble reaching it yourself, there are… tools that could help. Let me know if you want me to procure some for you.” The rubbing had stopped, Jason’s brain was—somewhat—back online, and Bruce made as if to pull away.

Jason reached back blindly, groping until he got a hold of Bruce’s thick wrist, jerked his hips back to ensure Bruce’s finger stayed where it was. He didn’t even reflect on what he’d done until he felt Bruce still completely behind him, felt him _radiate_ stillness, as if time had froze from the sheer force of Bruce’s will.

Slowly Jason let up the grip, finger by finger, until Bruce was free again, and he pulled up his hand to clasp tightly around his own wrist, not sure he could trust himself not to grab Bruce again. “Please,” he said again, more quiet, “please, Bruce. I need…”

Bruce still hadn’t moved, his finger still buried to the knuckle in Jason. Whatever amusement he’d shown, Jason knew was gone now.

"You’ll do something for me, Jason."

 _That_ voice. Not quite Batman, but enough force to make Jason bend over backwards when it was used on him.

"Anything."

"I will finish… milking your prostate, and you, in return, will do your very best not to clench around my finger or tense the muscles in your stomach and groin. I know this feels good for you, but that’s not why I—"

Jason found himself shaking his head, jerkily, wanting to nod at the same time. “I know, I know, okay? Just… Please. I—I’ll do my best.”

Bruce… almost sighed. “You always do, Jason. Just keep focusing on that. Focus on _letting_ this happen. Do not _work_ for it. This isn’t for fun.”

"You’re the boss."

"Good boy."

"Unh!"

"Jason…"

"No, please… I’ll be good. Do it, Bruce. Do it."

As Bruce’s finger started moving again, almost hesitantly at first, Jason stretched out over the table and reached out, grabbing the edge of it just to hang on, just to have _something_ to clench on, as he focused on relaxing the rest of his body. He locked his knees, turned his head to the side and rested his cheek on the table, nose twitching from the whiff of antiseptic that hit him.

Bruce seemed pleased with Jason going pliant. The hand that had kept a steady grip on Jason’s hip through it all let up and slid up to the small of Jason’s back, nudging under his t-shirt, and just resting there, big and warm, nearly spanning from hip to hip, grounding Jason and making him feel like he could actually do this. Bruce had him. Bruce always had him.

Jason’s deep sigh was like a sign Bruce had waited for. He probably had. The pressure on Jason’s prostate grew firm again, firm and perfectly even, pushing and rubbing, pushing and rubbing, not letting up, not slowing down or speeding up.

Jason felt the twitch in his hips, the clench of his muscles inside and out; he felt them wanting to happen, and held them back, turning his focus inwards, like one of Bruce’s meditation practices; locked onto the feeling Bruce’s finger created, and stayed there. The rest of his body soon started to seem less, to matter less. The expansion and contraction of his chest didn’t matter, the itch in his nose didn’t matter, the blood pooled in his dick didn’t matter, and Jason felt himself slowly starting to go soft. It still felt good, more than good, fucking amazing, but Jason also felt like… almost like an extension of Bruce; thread onto his finger, doing what Bruce wanted from him; _being_ what Bruce wanted him to be.

That felt good too, like a golden glow in his belly that radiated outwards until it filled every inch of his body, tightly intertwined with the heat in his pelvis, building, building; until Jason with a long, thready whine started not-coming. He felt his balls climbing, felt the come pushing its way up his dick, felt it not spurt, but drip thickly from the head, every rub of Bruce’s finger forcing out more, making it a constant, thin stream, enough of it for one long string to nearly reach the floor before breaking.

It seemed like it would never end. The hand on the small of Jason’s back had started moving, stroking a slow, continuous circle; encouraging without pressuring; just making sure Jason gave Bruce everything. And he did. When the final drop slid from his slit, clinging to the underside of the head, Jason felt completely drained. He’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if Bruce had wrung him out. Which was a pretty apt description. Jason felt about as solid as a rag, his muscles loose and floppy. When he took a deep breath, trying to get himself together, he realized his nose was congested; when he rubbed the heel of a hand over an eye he felt it getting wet.

"I think I—" Apparently a frog had lodged itself in his throat, too. He cleared it. "I think I need to sit down. Possibly lie down. Maybe forever."

Bruce only replied by carefully pulling out his finger, wrapping an arm around Jason’s hips, and gently lifting him up onto the examination table, letting him settle face down.

Jason had nearly started to drift when he felt a damp napkin between his cheeks, wiping the residue lube away.

“‘M not a baby, Bruce. Just gimme a minute and I’ll go clean up, promise.”

"Already done," Bruce said, simply, and the second after that Jason felt a big towel land over him, covering him up from the chill of the Cave, and from Bruce’s sight, Jason supposed.  
  
For a moment his thoughts drifted to Bruce, wondering how detached he’d actually been, if he’d gotten off on emptying Jason like that, but Jason couldn’t really muster much interest. It was funny; he couldn’t remember ever having felt so sated before and he _hadn’t even come_. Not in the traditional sense, anyways. It was weird. Super weird even. His boss had fucked him with a finger. Jason had begged to make it continue. Things were gonna be weird—

"Sleep," Bruce said.

Jason slept.

**oOo**


End file.
